


I've been around two times and found that you're the only thing I need

by birchtreeharold



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Baker!Harry, Cat, Cigarettes, I Tried, Lots of Tea, Lots of wine, M/M, No Smut, SO, Weed, Wine, but i couldn't find somewhere to slide it in, bye, here we go again, i guess, i spent so much time on this fic i genuinely thought it'd be longer i'm sorry, i started it ages ago and it kinda blossomed, i'll put the prompt in the notes, i'm weak i'm sorry, if anyone wants to write smut for me feel free, if you'll pardon the pun, it's the cutest, jesus fucking christ this is the softest shit i've ever written someone stop me, like a few sentences worth, oh shit, ok first off zayn liam and niall are so fucking brief, please enjoy this took way too much time for what it is, so i guess i need to tag that, sorry - Freeform, teacher!Louis, there's brief mentions of sex, they smoke a joint together at one point, this is basically based off of this super cute prompt, who knows what into but it involves CATS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9726926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birchtreeharold/pseuds/birchtreeharold
Summary: Based off of the prompt from louistopsfuckers on tumblr:Larry AU based off a post I saw once where Louis and Harry are neighbours and Louis' cat knocks up Harry's cat and when Harry realises who the father is he storms over to Louis' house telling him to keep that savage animal away from his princess and Louis responds by leaving things like cat food and toys on Harry's porch with a note that says "child support" (spoiler: Harry and Louis eventually decide that they want to keep the kitty family together and raise them as a team)This was a lot of fun, so thank you louistopsfuckers, I love your user. u right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> https://open.spotify.com/user/zaybijaz/playlist/20LfqoIguMDXY8t0Bd4MIi here's a playlist if u want a soundtrack maybe  
> the title is from a song called milk & black spiders which'll be in the playlist. it means a lot to me because it makes me think of harry a lot, who also happens to mean a lot to me
> 
> also thank u anyone who's actually reading this it means the world!!!
> 
> ok enjoy

Harry unlocks the door to his flat and walks in, greeted by the familiar smell of his favourite incense with a hint of cat. He glances around the small living room after closing the door behind him. He furrows his brow and looks to his bedroom door, finding it, along with his bathroom door, wide open.  
"Princess?" He begins walking towards his kitchen, throwing his keys onto the counter when he hears the soft pitter patter of paws against the wooden floor approaching from behind him. He can feel his cat nuzzling his shins before he has the chance to look down.  
"Hey, baby, where were you hiding?" He reaches down to lift her up, scratching her chocolate brown fur. She purrs in response and Harry plants a gentle kiss on top of her head. He places her on the kitchen counter as he begins to prepare his dinner.

*  
The rice simmers away slowly and Harry heads to his bedroom to change.  
He emerges in nothing but a pair of black joggers to find no sign of his cat, once again. He looks in the bathroom, the living room, the closet, and the kitchen. He calls to her a few times before deciding to continue with his dinner. He tells himself that she'll eventually show up, just to ease his nerves.  
Harry's wind chime from within his bedroom sounds loudly with a gust of the cold night air as Harry pours the freshly made chilli onto his rice. It's then that he remembers the open window in there. He puts down his plate on the small table and walks towards his room. He kicks a few items of (most likely) dirty clothing aside as he reaches the window. He sticks out his head and looks down at the ground, two floors below him, only to find his fluffy cat's piercing green eyes staring right back up at him.  
"Princess! There you are, you little minx. Get back up here, right now!"  
Princess only brushes off Harry's demands, heading towards the tree beside the apartment block. She climbs it with ease. Harry is mistaken, however, when he assumes Princess is heading for the branch conveniently directed at his window. She instead stops at the branch below, which happens to lead to the flat underneath Harry.  
"You little..." Princess is gone by the time Harry can finish, giving him one last glance before hopping down from the branch in through the window.  
Harry retreats back inside, outsmarted by his own cat. He huffs as he makes his way back to the kitchen to eat in silent jealousy of the person below him, currently hogging his only friend. He supposes that's a little bit unfair on Liam and Zayn, though he doesn't see them as often now. Harry has to remind himself that he can't blame them, they are on their honeymoon, after all. Is a honeymoon still a honeymoon if it turns into a trip over to France, then to Switzerland, then to a tour around Europe? He wonders if he'll ever know as a painfully single man. He stabs the innocent rice on his plate again and again as he thinks about Zayn and Liam, soaking up the sun and being in love. He tries to brush off the hints of envy that threaten and nag him. _Who gets married at 22 anyway?_ He scoffs to himself. A small wave of sadness finds its way into his thoughts, and Harry can't deny that he misses their company. They are his only friends other than his cat. He tries not to cry at the sudden realisation. He finishes his dinner to the soft sound of the radio and his own thoughts.  
He types out a text to Zayn after finishing the washing up.

_Twat in the flat below me just stole my cat. Missing you terribly.x_

_**Princess? can't blame her for leaving, you're awfully boring. sending love from Italy xxx** _

He chuckles softly at the picture of the pair attached, laughing together in the middle of Rome somewhere, and heads to the sofa to catch up on Ian Somerhalder after running over his work schedule again. He doesn't dwell on the ache in his chest that feels a bit like loneliness. 

The sun has set by the time Harry sees his cat again. She hops up onto the sofa beside him and curls into his side.  
"Anything to say for yourself?" Harry asks her with a bitter undertone as he looks down at his furry friend. She only gives a flick of her tail at that.  
"Didn't think so." He sips his glass of rosé as the credits roll on the latest episode of The Vampire Diaries. 

A week later Harry comes home from a long shift at the bakery to find Princess nuzzling into the neck of...another cat. The newbie has scruffy fur, light grey in colour and as he approaches the pair of felines he notices a pair of bright blue eyes. The cat is gorgeous, and Harry can't help but feel like he's interrupting something. 

"Can I help you?" The cats continue as they were, snuggling on top of Harry's dark blue sofa. 

The second cat, he decides to nickname Blue, becomes a regular visitor, and Harry is no longer startled to come home to the pair on his bed or sofa. He grows quite fond of Blue after a few weeks of them both being around. He's happy Princess has a new friend, and although he'd never admit it, Harry finds himself feeling a little bit lonely when the two disappear for hours at a time and he comes home to an empty flat.

*

Harry walks through his door covered in icing sugar and ready to collapse into bed after a long shower. He finds Princess already at his feet, silently asking to be cuddled. He obliges and picks her up with a smile, but frowns at how heavy she's become.  
"What've you been eating down there, my lovely? And what has got you all cuddly all of a sudden? Where's Blue gone?" She all but nuzzles at his cheek, licking the buttercream surely smudged across his face. He giggles as he walks to his bedroom and props her gently on the bed. He orders a pizza big enough for two and Princess follows him into the bathroom. He strips away his dirty clothes and washes away the sweat and sugar that have built up during the day using his smelliest, yummiest shampoo. Princess sits happily on the toilet seat, observing him curiously and licking her paws one by one.  
He puts on a pair of boxers and quickly smooths down Princess' fur, having gone extra puffy from the humidity of the shower. The doorbell rings as he finishes the speedy grooming and he pays the bill in his boxers, much to the distaste of the pizza boy, evident on his red face. He tips him anyway.  
Princess curls up at the end of his bed as Harry munches on his pizza and tries his hardest not to cry watching The Vampire Diaries. He swears to himself he won't sink that low, but fifteen minutes later he's using poor, innocent, Princess as a tissue to dab away his tears. After composing himself, he brushes his teeth, moisturises his face and body and hops into bed, Princess at his side, as usual, and falls asleep to the soothing sound of her purring.

Harry wakes up that night to the putrid sound of retching. He jumps up and runs to the kitchen and watches in horror as Princess vomits all over his floor. 

"Oh Princess," he drops to his knees and pets her gently as he waits for it to stop. "Looks like we're gonna have to pay the vet a visit." 

*

"Well, Mr.Styles, Princess here is obviously pregnant." Harry rubs his tired eyes as he tries to take in what the vet is saying through his fatigue.

"Pregnant," He deadpans, "Hold on, _pregnant_?"

"Yes, pregnant. We'll have to give her an ultrasound to have an idea of how many she's carrying. Congratulations." Harry's eyes go wide and he looks down at his cat, who lies asleep on the examination table.

"But...how is this possible? I don't-" Harry pauses as it dawns on him. 

"Is everything okay?" Dr.Wheelan asks him with concern.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I just need to have a chat with the father-to-be." Dr.Wheelan chuckles.

"Good luck, I suppose," He smiles warmly.

*

Harry arrives home with his pregnant cat and a sudden annoyance surging through him. _How could he have been so stupid?_ Gaining weight, eating more than usual and being more cuddly? He has to take care of four kittens now, as the vet had informed him following the scan, as well as Princess. He's said four, but he'd also said they couldn't be sure. So, four, at the very least. He sighs as he remembers the main culprit at the heart of the whole situation. Blue.  
"Stay here." He commands an already sleeping Princess. He lays her down on the sofa and pecks her on the head quickly before heading for the door.

It takes him under two minutes to reach flat number 27a. He angrily lifts his fist and knocks three times on the door.  
"Just a second!" He hears a soft voice coming from inside.  
The door swings open far more than a second later, only angering Harry further.  
Harry's fury fizzles away just as quickly as it had built up at the sight of the man before him. His pointed readily accusing finger drops limply to his side.  
The man stares at Harry with a confused expression, waiting for an explanation. Harry can only stare straight back into the two blue oceans in front of him, his words lost at sea. His mouth hangs slightly agape as he struggles to take in the cheekbones, and the hair, and the curves all at once. It's a bit overwhelming, to say the least.  
"Uh, hi...Can I help you?" The small man asks a little impatiently, scratching the scruff on his chin. _His voice_. It's soft and raspy and Harry is completely taken with it.  
Harry blinks for the first time in what feels like hours and splutters as he finally finds his voice.  
"Yes, sorry, yes! Cat! You have a cat?" The man's lips quirk up at that. Harry watches the bewilderment behind the man's eyes as he casually leans against his door frame, ready to take in some crazy talk from some maniac with curls and a purple headscarf.  
"Yeah, I own a cat. Why do you ask?" Harry's objective suddenly returns as the man's tone comes across as somewhat irritated. He has no right to be annoyed about this, it's Harry's cat that's pregnant, not his.  
"See, there's an issue, your cat...?" He leaves it open ended with a hand outstretched.  
"My cat, Bruce, yeah. What about him?" His accent trickles through Harry's head like melted butter. He internally reminds himself of the reason he came. His frown returns.  
"See, your little shit of a cat got my Princess pregnant," All previous fondness of the smokey grey cat flies out the window as his anger comes bubbling back. How could this man let this happen to his baby? "She's an innocent little kitten and your savage animal went and touched her and now this is happening and...and," Harry is slightly breathless from the yelling. "Just...keep your rat away from mine. Okay?" He finally meets the eyes of the man in front of him. He's more pissed off, but also slightly confused at the expression he's met with. The man's eyebrow is quirked and he wears a slight smirk as he bites down on his own fist.  
"What? What's so funny? My fucking cat is a year old and pregnant! This is serious!" He grabs a fistful of his own hair and tugs out of frustration.  
"Nothing it's just..." The man struggles to compose himself. "I'm sorry, I am. I just...all I can say is...congratulations, I guess?" He bursts into laughter then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Harry's anger overpowers his endearment at the small hand that the man lifts to stifle his giggles. Harry begins storming down the corridor towards the stairs.  
"Hey! Think about it this way," Harry turns one last time to see the man peeking out of his doorway, "we're grandparents now!" He lets out another fit of giggles at that. Harry flips him off and continues on his way.  
"Fuck you."

*

Harry doesn't smoke, in fact, he can't remember the last time he smoked, especially using his emergency pack he keeps behind the microwave. He brushes off the inner reminder that says almost every day, _you need to get out more_.  
Today, however, he thinks he might deserve a cigarette or two. He reaches through dust and grime to the packet and grabs his pink lighter from the drawer.  
His windowsill is cold on his bum as he sits upon it in his bedroom. He reaches for his fuzzy leopard print comforter and wraps himself up in it. He lights the cigarette and takes a small drag. He revels in the relief the smoke gives him, letting his head tip back and his eyes drift shut. As soon as his world goes black, a bright pair of blue eyes appears, reminding him of his current predicament. They're not cat eyes. Those are human and there are crinkles by those eyes that make Harry's lips twitch up. He can't help but feel an odd sense of peace settle in his bones as he takes another, bigger toke, probably from the nicotine currently in his veins. Definitely not from the eyes he can't scrape from his mind.  
Harry flicks the loose ash from the end of his cigarette absentmindedly, and a ball of fur creeps slowly along the branch beside the window. If Harry listens close enough he can hear the soft padding of Princess' feet along the bark. He waits until he feels the paws drop from a leap onto his lap. He opens his eyes and stubs out his cigarette on the white wall next to him. He looks down at his cat.  
"You're pregnant. But you already knew that, didn't you? You little shit. Your baby daddy has some serious explaining to do." He sighs as he smooths his hand down her silky spine. He can't help but smile softly at the purrs she lets out at his touch. 

*

Harry winces with a curse at the scorching hot liquid that travels down his throat, much too quickly. He grabs his keys, his bag and his coat and opens the door after giving Princess a gentle tap on the head, muttering _late, late, late again_ to his own little beat as he goes. His tune and steps come to a halt at what he sees before him.  
He looks down the corridor to his left, then to his right, but finds them both empty, aside from the neighbour with bleach blonde hair he forgets the name of skittering down the steps.  
"Hey!" The man stops. "Hi! Sorry, did you leave this here?"  
The slightly breathless man glances towards the box wrapped in foil at Harry's door.  
"Did I leave that there?" He asks in a thick Irish accent.  
"Yes. Did you leave this here?" Harry blinks at him.  
"Uh, no, mate. Sorry, but I've got to run. Nice chatting, though."  
_Nice chatting? Who on earth is that happy at this ungodly hour?_ Harry wonders as he rolls his eyes.  
Harry picks up the box and tucks it in his backpack quickly, thinking about the mysterious gift until he reaches the bakery.  
His head locks into work-mode when he reaches the bakery, and the box doesn't cross his mind until he's on his lunch break and he's sitting on the countertop, the box perched in his lap. He gives his bun a quick tug to tighten it and pinches his lip between his fingers. The suspense gets the better of him and he rips away the foil from the box, only to find a post-it note stuck to the cardboard beneath the wrapping.  
' **Child support** ' is written in bold black lettering across the neon pink piece of paper. It's surrounded by multiple doodled smileys and paw prints. Harry gasps and lets out an obscene laugh at the realisation of how hilarious it is. His cat is almost 6 weeks pregnant with his neighbour's cat's kittens and he's giving Harry child support.  
He rips apart the box like a child on Christmas morning and finds a full pack of cat food next to another smaller box filled with fish shaped cat treats. A little book lies beneath the treats, filled with cat-related puns. Harry's delight only grows at the gift. And If he doesn't feel a little giddy at the thought of the boy with the eyes in the apartment below wrapping a present especially for him, no one has to know.

*****

Another week later, Harry opens his door ( _late to work again, of course_ ) to another package. Harry tries his hardest to suppress the grin threatening to take over his face as he leans down to put the gift in his bag again.  
This time when he opens the box, he sees a small striped food bowl placed amongst a pile of numerous fish-themed toys. Harry has to muffle his giggle with his large hand. The post-it, neon green in colour, has ' **child support/apology pt.II** ' scrawled in biro next to paw prints and hearts. 

Harry arrives home late in the afternoon and the sun warms his back as he strolls down the streets of London, breathing in the city air. He takes the stairs up to his apartment, feeling more energetic than usual. His shift had been pleasant, aside from the icing sugar explosion, which had resulted in a cloud of sweetness settling in the kitchen, and how could he complain? He loves his job and even the downsides to it. He loves the regulars, he loves the pinks and whites of the decor, he loves the children he can blow away with his colourful cookies and enormous cakes. He loves it all.  
He unlocks his door with a content smile on his face, humming a happy tune. His smile quickly turns to a frown as he notices an untouched feel to his living space. He walks around each room twice before deciding to wait for his very pregnant furry friend to return from her adventuring.  
His concern grows with each passing minute and he finds himself unable to finish his dinner over the unpleasant feeling settling in his stomach. His painted nails are a mess as he bites them anxiously on the sofa, waiting for Princess to come home. 

  
The sun has set when he finally gives in. He practically sprints down to flat number 27a and hammers at the door. The door opens promptly and Harry's mind goes blank at the sight of the man. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful he was. Almost.  
"Oh, hey. It's you. So you got my package-" Harry's panic comes bubbling back. It quickly turns to worry and then there are tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "Are...are you okay? What ha-" he doesn't get the chance to finish before Harry is letting it out in one quick breath.  
"Princess is missing, I have no idea where she is and she's super pregnant and she's not at home and safe like she always is when I get home from work and I didn't know where else to look. Help me." He's breathing in short and quick gasps, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. He feels sick with worry.  
"It's okay, it's going to be okay," The man lifts his hands to rest on Harry's biceps. He squeezes lightly. "Hey, look at me," Harry's eyes slowly lift to meet the man's stern gaze, "we'll find her, okay? She's not here, but we'll find her eventually. She'll be okay." He drops his hands once Harry takes a deep breath and exhales again. He leads Harry into the flat.  
"Okay. Sorry, for being like that." He sighs.  
"It's okay," he chuckles, "I'm sure I'd be the same if Bruce was missing. Except, maybe minus the tears." At that, he leans over the table and twists back around, a tissue in hand in front of Harry's face. Harry's eyes soften as he takes the tissue from his small hands and dabs his eyes and nose quietly as the man watches with concern.  
"Thanks." He mutters.  
"No worries..," he pauses, and lets out a breathy laugh, "I never got your name."  
"Harry. Harry Styles."  
"Louis Tomlinson." They both smile at each other before Louis says, rubbing his hands together. "Right, let's go find us a pregnant cat, yeah?" Harry sniffles and laughs lightly, grateful for Louis' optimism.  
"Yeah." 

  
  
They spend an hour searching the apartment block together, to no avail. Harry says he'll search outside, but hints as subtly as he can for Louis to join him, due to the usually calming sounds of the city, combined with the pitch black, not being all that soothing tonight.  
Louis ends up accompanying Harry around the perimeter, both of them calling out for Princess until their voices turn raspy. Harry's head hangs heavily on his shoulders as Louis suggests they head back inside, without a Princess in either of their arms.  
"Harry?" Louis asks as they head back up the stairs. Harry tries to ignore the heat of Louis' hand on his lower back. He also tries to ignore the fact that Louis consciously chose the stairs over the elevator.  
"Yeah?" He answers, solemnly.  
"Did you check your apartment?" Harry sneaks a glance at him.  
"Yeah, course I did." He answers easily.  
"Did you double check it?"  
"Yes, Louis. I double checked it. Every room. Twice." He almost snaps.  
"But did you check the closets? And the cupboards? Classic hiding spots for Bruce."  
Harry opens his mouth to spit back an ' _obviously, Louis_ ', but quickly realises he hadn't actually checked the closet. _How had he missed the closet?_  
Harry comes to a halt on the staircase before glancing to the top. He begins sprinting up, two steps at a time. Louis follows him promptly and Harry's door swings open as they both head towards the closet and open it to find a broom and a spare blanket, but no Princess. Harry's face drops and his adrenaline spike sizzles away.  
Louis wonders into the bedroom and all of two seconds later Harry hears a shout from where he's slouched on the sofa in defeat. He jumps up and runs to the room to find Louis at his wardrobe, smiling down at his discovery. Harry's feet trudge slowly towards him, and he gasps at what he sees when he looks down at the wardrobe floor.  
"Oh my god, Louis..." He kneels down to stroke Princess' fluffy little head, and she purrs in response. He looks to the four small balls of fur at her side. "They're so beautiful."  
"They are." Harry looks up at Louis to find him staring right back. He smiles softly and Harry returns the gesture. They both startle at the sound of the bedroom door being opened.  
They look to find Bruce strutting casually towards them.  
"Bruce! There you are!" Louis exclaims, scooping up the slim grey cat once he reaches the wardrobe.  
"Hey Bruce, sorry I called you a rat," Harry scratches Bruce's chin. "You're a dad now, you know." They look to the litter piled on...Harry's best pyjamas, he realises with a grimace.  
Bruce squirms in Louis' arms until he lets go, allowing the cat to climb next to Princess and nuzzle the newborn kittens.  
The two men watch them fondly, and when Louis looks to Harry, he looks back with glossy eyes.  
"Hey, congrats, I guess. We're grandparents." He remarks lightly.  
"I guess we are." Harry sighs.  
"Now what?"  
"Now what, what?" Harry frowns.  
"I mean, what happens now?"  
"I'm not following."  
"Who gets the kittens? Should we...do we settle a rota? Are we going to have a custody battle? I don't want to-"  
"Lou," Louis ignores the flip his stomach does at the nickname, "We'll work it out. You can see them whenever you want, they're your kittens too." Harry smiles up at him.  
Harry lets out a light grunt as he stretches to stand again.  
"Right. Great! Okay, that's great. Whenever I like?" Louis smiles.  
"Yeah, I don't see why not. You can see me- _them_. You can see them every day if you'd like," Louis beams at him and Harry beams right back, "So, tea?"  
"Please." 

******* **

  
  
"Okay, so I've been googling how to raise kittens for an hour and I think I've got it." Louis puts down his cup (the third this evening) and claps his hands together, elbows resting on his knees.  
"Brilliant, let's have it." Harry gives Louis all of his attention from the mismatching sofa opposite to Louis.  
"Well, momma cat needs constant access to food and water."  
"Yeah, got that."  
"It also says they need to be surrounded by noise, from vacuums to talking, to dishes dropping. Weird." Louis frowns at his phone screen as he scrolls down.  
"But won't it scare them?" Harry pouts with worry.  
"Apparently not, making them used to quiet is the worst thing you can do."  
"The worst?" Harry stares nervously at Louis with wide eyes.  
"The absolute worst." Louis suppresses a smirk.  
"Oh."  
"Yup. Guess it wouldn't be a great idea to raise them here. You know, what with all the quiet, and the," he quotes using his fingers. "'Zen time' I can imagine you enjoy from time to time," He looks pointedly around the apartment, scattered with tapestries, candles and incense sticks,"It just wouldn't work. It'd make nervous cats. Unless of course..." He lifts his fist to his chin in faux thought. Harry, who was just on the verge of tears at the thought of losing his newborn kittens, perks up at Louis' afterthought.  
"Yes, Louis? What? What can I do?"  
"Unless, of course," Louis stands up and begins slowly pacing back and forth, "You had someone...a friend that liked making noise...if only they were around...in close proximity to you. Wouldn't that be grand?" Harry's face turns from panic to almost amused at Louis' teasing.  
"Louis." He stands up.  
"If only they were able to help the kittens grow up surrounded by lots of talking and noise."  
"Louis." He moves in front of Louis.  
"With full access to the fridge."  
"Lou." Harry's tone turns stern.  
"And the kettle." Louis pouts.  
"Lou." Harry halts Louis with two hands on his chest.  
"And the shower and sofa?" Louis' brows lift in question.  
"Yes. Louis, yes. If this is your weird way of asking me to hang out...then I'd love to. I've already told you that you're welcome anytime. To play and talk and watch movies with us." His hands linger on his chest.  
"Thanks. But I meant if they're going to be sleeping here, shouldn't grandpa sleep here too?"  
"Lou, are you asking me if you can stay for a sleepover?"  
"Yeah, I mean, for their first night or two. Just in case something happens. You know, like an emergency. I want to be here." Harry's hands drop and a smirk forms on his face.  
"Sure thing, Tomlinson." He turns to walk into the bathroom, his hips swaying more than usual with every step.  
Louis slumps to the sofa and puts his head in his hands. He breathes out heavily. 

  
  
Harry splashes his face with cold water as an attempt to soothe the burning in his rosy cheeks. He's a grown man, he is most definitely not blushing because a handsome young man wants to stay the night. A man with gorgeous blue eyes and cheekbones cut like glass, a man with tight jeans that accentuate his curves in all the right places, a man, whom with a single touch feels like fire, burning holes through Harry's floral shirt. Definitely not.  
He pees quickly, washes his hands and squirts his favourite perfume on his neck before heading straight for the bottle of wine in his fridge. He glances at Louis who still seems to be pondering over something on his phone. He pours two glasses without thinking and checks on the kittens. They're still sleeping soundly and their parents are beside them, purring happily too. He smiles and walks into the living area again. He hands Louis a glass and he thanks him.  
"Thought we both might need it."  
"Yeah, definitely." He sips quietly, putting his phone down on the table. 

  
  
An hour and a half later, both of the men have given up on the glasses altogether, passing the (Second? Or was it their third?) bottle of wine to each other between sips.  
Harry's lying against the armrest of the sofa, his legs across Louis' lap, where he sits at the other end. He plays with the loose thread on one of Harry's fluffy socks.  
"Listen, all I'm saying is, The Amazing Spiderman wasn't that bad."  
"Harry, get a fucking grip. Look at Tobey Maguire. Look at his face." As if on queue, a close up of Tobey Maguire's face appears on the television screen, and he's crying over his dead uncle.  
"That is talent. That, my curly friend, is acting. Andrew Garfield can suck it."  
"I mean, that's the point, isn't it? You saw that arse in that suit, right? He can certainly suck it."  
"Oh really?" Louis' eyebrow quirks as he takes a large gulp of the cheap wine.  
"Most definitely." Harry nods with confidence, though his speech is a slow drawl, even more so than usual, what with the alcohol now in his bloodstream. He snatches the bottle back and swigs from it. Louis watches intently as his head travels back, revealing Harry's smooth, creamy neck, his Adam's apple protruding as he swallows. It looks inviting, and Louis has to tell himself that with this much wine in his body, kissing Harry's neck right now might not end well.  
Well, it would end well, he supposes, but if he was to kiss this boy's beautiful neck right now, he'd want to remember every single second, savour every single sound from his gorgeous mouth, treasure each and every touch. He knows he might not get that if he's walking the thin line between tipsy and drunk, they both are. And of course, he needs to know if the man before him wants the same thing.  
Harry's voice breaks into Louis' thoughts about Harry's neck with 'Lou, want some more?'.  
Louis politely declines and says he should probably get back to his apartment.  
"But I thought..." Harry's brow furrows when Louis lifts his legs for him to escape towards the door.  
"Hm?" Louis hums as he spins back around. Harry chuckles nervously.  
"I thought you wanted to stay...for a sleepover." He bites back a smile.  
"Oh, yeah. I mean, I was joking. You don't have to feel obligated to let me stay," he laughs lightly, "only if...only if you wanted me to." He laughs again.  
"Yeah, I mean, if you want to. You can." He blushes then.  
"I do want to."  
"Then stay."  
"Okay." He whispers. 

  
  
Harry sets the sofa up with blankets and pillows for Louis shortly after they clear the table of wine bottles and empty bags of popcorn.  
Louis comes in from the bathroom in nothing but a spare pair of joggers belonging to Harry.  
"Hey, they were a bit long, so I had to roll them up." He chuckles under Harry's stare.  
"I can see that." He can't take his eyes off of Louis, his golden skin, with ink in various places, seemingly random, but organised in a way that works on his glowing body.  
"Looks cosy, thank you." Louis interrupts Harry's daze.  
"You're welcome. Hope it's comfortable enough." He clears his throat.  
"I'm sure it will be." They stand still for a minute, both of them unsure of what happens next. Harry plays with the hem of his over-worn t-shirt that tickles his bare thighs before he decides to break the silence.  
"I'm going to check on the little ones." He smiles softly through a sigh.  
"Yeah, me too, actually." He follows Harry into the bedroom. Louis uses the few seconds it takes to reach the room to frantically wipe the creamy, soft thighs from his head, but accepts defeat fairly quickly. They're right there, in front of him. And he'd be lying if he said he'd genuinely tried when it came to the battle between trying to wipe his memory of them and treasuring the image of them forever. It was an easy fight, to say the least.  
They find the kittens more or less in the same position, although Harry finds himself cooing more, now that he can see the little animals are feeding. He lets out a little squeak that makes Louis laugh.  
"Louis, they are so cute, I want to cry."  
"You're such a sap." He shakes his head, heading for the door. "Good night, Harry."  
"Night, Lou."  
Louis almost reaches the sofa before he hears a small sniffle. He turns back around and peeps through the door again. Harry is kneeling on the hard vinyl floor, one arm leaning on the piles of clothes along the bottom of the wardrobe with the other one draped around his cat as he strokes her softly. Louis watches in adoration and smiles. He hears a soft 'So proud if you, princess. Did so good.'  
And that's all it takes for Louis' knees to weaken, his heart to flip in his chest and for his legs to come to life, bringing him to Harry's side again. He drops to the floor beside Harry and crosses his legs. Harry lowers himself to the floor to do the same. Harry's head finds its way to Louis' shoulder, and Louis' arm snakes around Harry's small waist.  
"I think we're going to be amazing grandparents."  
"Me too, Lou. Me too." He whispers around a yawn. 

  
*****

  
  
Harry's eyes struggle against the pressure building in his head to open, but he manages eventually and rubs them with one hand, the other tucked beneath the pillow his head rests upon. The first thing he sees is the neon numbers of his alarm clock, flashing in front of him on his bedside table. He groans and grabs a handful of the duvet, ready to rip it off like a plaster and face the cold dewy morning. He freezes when he finds a weight across his waist, holding him down. He lifts his head and cranes his neck to glance at the source of the anchor, and it belongs to a boy with feathery hair.  
Louis' head is nuzzled into the pillow and as a result, his nose is squashed upwards. It's a sight for sore eyes, and Harry has two of those, so he smiles. He reaches for his phone on the table and snaps a picture. He twists back around and decides to enjoy the morning for what it is; warm with a pretty boy wrapped around him. He spends the next twenty minutes or so on his phone doodling various things onto Louis' face using an app. He doodles kitten ears on one, and devil horns on another.  
It's as he's saving them to his phone forever that he realises that he'd never actually gotten into bed. At least...he doesn't recall it. Was he that drunk? He remembers everything else from the wine to Tobey Maguire's ugly crying face, to Andrew Garfield's arse, to the kittens, to the quiet moment they'd shared to end the night. In fact, he smiles rather fondly to himself at the memory.  
Louis must hear the racing thoughts of Harry's brain because he begins to stir. Harry hears his sharp intake of breath followed by a groan to signal his awakening. His arm slides from Harry's side and Harry guesses he, too, must be rubbing his tired eyes. Harry chooses this as a good time to roll over. Although he may have judged wrong, because the manoeuvre brings him so close to Louis, his nose brushes his shoulder. Louis looks down at Harry. He brings a hand from behind his head and ruffles Harry's sleep-messy curls with a fond smile. Harry returns it immediately.  
"Morning, grandpa." He says, his voice husky with sleep. Harry giggles, his eyes slipping shut with it.  
"Morning. Question,"  
"Already?" He moans.  
"Yes, question; How did I get into bed? I don't remember how I...Was I that drunk? Because I-"  
"No, Harry, no," he chuckles, "you weren't that drunk, although you rambled on about Andrew Garfield much too passionately for someone sober, I'll be honest," Harry frowns, "but no, you didn't black out, you just...fell asleep on my shoulder. So I sort of carried you...to bed."  
It's then that Harry notices that Louis isn't even under the duvet, he's on top of it, with only a comforter to cover him. He feels awful for it but goes soft at the thought of Louis carrying and tucking him into bed. He looks to Louis' rosy cheeks, his eyes focused on his feet.  
"Oh."  
"Yeah, sorry, I sort of passed out here, too."  
"No, it's okay. Thank you." Harry says quietly.  
"You're welcome."  
"You're a very cute sleeper."  
"Oh, thank Christ, because you're not," Harry's eyebrows shoot up with hurt.  
"Oi!" He pushes Louis off the bed. He scrambles to his feet and makes a run for it.  
"Drool everywhere, all over my shoulder and shit, not pretty." He teases from the end of the bed.  
"Fuck off!" Harry chucks a pillow as hard as he can at Louis as he darts out the bedroom door, dodging it by a mile. Louis only laughs as Harry lies in a ruffled bed with his surely beetroot-red face in his hands, laughing too.  
Soon enough, he hears the familiar sound of the kettle boiling from the kitchen and makes his way there. He's met with a sleepy Louis in Harry's joggers and his t-shirt from yesterday, who potters around the kitchen, happily rooting through the cupboards in search of cereal.  
Harry's small cough, announcing his presence, doesn't even startle Louis. He'd expected him to come through eventually, but what he hadn't expected, was for Harry to look so pretty in the morning light. His milky thighs and fluffy purple socks, with the giant hoodie he'd slipped on before entering, make Louis wonder if maybe, he should look up the word 'soft' because he's doubting every previous meaning he had of the word. He's sure that he'd find a picture of Harry there, looking just as he is now. He swallows dryly. Harry just smiles at him, unaware of Louis' stare as he makes his way to the small table.  
"There's tea there for you." Louis nods towards the dining table and surely enough, a steaming hot mug of tea in his favourite mug awaits him.  
"Thanks, still gonna get you back for that, by the way."  
"For what? Your drool? Reckon you owe me for that one, Styles." Harry can only flip him off with a mouth full of tea. 

  
  
They spend the day kitten-proofing the apartment, ready for when the little ones are jumping on every surface and causing inevitable chaos. And...it's fun. It's the most fun either of them has had in a long time. They laugh until they can't breathe over tea breaks and Harry almost passes out when Louis gets tangled in Harry's old yarn from a failed crochet project he finds underneath the sofa.  
Harry near screams when Louis discovers a nerf gun hidden in a cupboard and chases Harry around the apartment for an hour. Another half hour passes involving Louis apologising for the bullet to the nose Harry took, his hands soothing Harry's red cheeks and his eyes are sincere, despite the amused smile on his face.  
The boys cook pasta together that evening, with garlic bread, which they both regret when they find themselves teasing each other over who's breath smells the worst afterwards.  
When the bright sunlight of Saturday begins to drift away, early on the winter's day, Louis decides over a shared cigarette that he should head back to his place. They sit opposite each other on the window, a blanket over the both of them.  
Harry tries to hide the pout on his face at the suggestion, but the moonlight now settled comfortably in the sky gives him away.  
"Aw, sad to see me go so soon?" He teases.  
"Not at all," Harry smirks back, hopefully seeming nonchalant. Louis sees straight through it.  
"Don't worry about it, love. You'll be seeing plenty of this gorgeous face from now on. We have grandkids to raise." Harry bites his lip to suppress the smile on his face.  
"God, I should hope not, should've seen the way you handled that cat ornament earlier, I think I actually prayed for a second. Lord knows how you'd be with a child." He scoffs. Louis reaches for the cigarette between Harry's lips, inhaling once before he stubs out it out on the windowsill. Harry frowns at him for cutting his smoke short.  
"Shouldn't smoke, it's bad for you and the kids. And I'll have you know, I've had Bruce since he was wee, I've got plenty of experience. And I teach children for a living, you twat."  
"Sure, Louis." Harry rolls his eyes as they both head towards the front door, the blanket discarded on the floor. Louis mutters a ' _knob_ ' under his breath, to which Harry can only smile. They both ignore the fact that they leave multiple items belonging to Louis scattered around the apartment as they go, including his cat.  
Harry opens the door for the man to leave.  
"Guess I'll see you later then, yeah?" Louis avoids his gaze.  
"Sure, see you later, Louis." He looks to Louis' eyes, that seem distant, focused on something behind Harry's shoulder, then he looks to his lips, slightly chapped, but certainly kissable, all the same.  
"Okay. Bye."  
"Bye," Louis turns quickly and Harry swings the door shut behind him before he can scream after him to stay.  
He falls back against the cool artificial wood, sighing to himself.  
He closes his eyes for all of ten seconds before there's a knock at the door. He groans and reaches for the handle.  
"Look, this is the second time this week, mate, I didn't order the damn-"  
"Hi." His eyes shoot up to Louis, who stands before him once again, hair somewhat dishevelled from a hand or two running through it in frustration.  
"Hey." He breathes out.  
"Forgot this," he says, before reaching to cup Harry's cheek in one hand. He brings his lips to Harry's other cheek for a sweet, chaste kiss. It's brief, and he's gone again before Harry can register it. He stands at the open door, mouth agape for a good minute before he swallows past his dry throat and closes the door again.  
His cool fingers brush the warm heat radiating from his cheek, where Louis' lips were, not long ago. He smiles. He giggles. He fucking giggles, and then he's checking on the kittens again, now in the living room.  
"Princess, guess what? Mommy just got a kiss from _your baby daddy's daddy_ ," he looks pointedly at Bruce with a grin on his face, who's curled up on his own bed on the floor Harry and Louis had set up together. Princess and the kittens rest in their own bed, again, homemade by Louis and Harry. Princess meows quietly.  
"I know, babe, I'm not getting myself too excited. I'm not. I promise." He whispers. Although he knows it's the first lie he's ever told Princess when he has to hold a pillow to his face and squeal before falling asleep that night. 

******* **

  
  
Harry doesn't see Louis on Sunday, and he doesn't see him on Monday either, but it's because he's probably working, or busy with family, or running errands. It has to be. He has a life, one without Harry, involving lots of other things that aren't Harry. Harry can't help but feel somewhat sad about it, and he hates himself for it.  
He shouldn't have let himself get excited. He decides after it hits him, as he's in work, icing the words ' **Happy birthday Lucy!** ' Onto a Spiderman themed cake; he misses Louis. He's known the guy for a mere few days and he misses him, goddammit. He misses his laugh and his teasing and his attention. But he especially misses the gentle touch of his lips on his skin, the light scruff on his face tickling Harry's cheek for the briefest of moments.  
He rubs his eyes, surely smudging flour across his cheek. His boss, Lily, walks in then.  
"Better get that cake finished, honey, there's a gorgeous lad outside the door and he's been staring through the window for the past ten minutes. Gone through roughly seven to nine cigarettes. I definitely wasn't counting out of boredom. I'm going to have to ask if I can help him if he stays any longer. He's corrupting our image."  
"Don't be dramatic, Lily," He teases,"I've got him. Give me two minutes." Harry wants to be kept busy before his thoughts drive him wild.  
"Thanks, doll." Lily is never short of pet names for him, and he adores her for it. She's the mum he needs whilst his old one is back home in Holmes Chapel. She paces through the small baking space and out through the back, surely tackling another delivery.  
Harry polishes up the cake and boxes it, labelling it too. He takes his time, considering it is a late afternoon on a Tuesday and the bakery isn't ever too busy at such a time. He knows there's no one for him to serve aside from the old lady on table three, who takes an entire hour every week to finish a single slice of Madeira cake and a cup of Earl Grey. He pushes through the bead curtains leading him to the counter and display case, holding a fresh batch of pastries on a tray. He stops as the last string of beads falls from his face.  
Louis is standing outside the bakery, flicking ash from his cigarette to the ground. Harry can make out the small pink flower he'd stitched onto the back of his denim jacket during their time together (Louis had doubted his embroidery skills and had paid the ultimate price for it).  
His eyes meet Harry's when he turns to look inside. He smiles and waves. Harry puts down the tray on the counter and smiles too, waving right back. He realises they should probably further the interaction from that and waves Louis inside. He begins placing the various sweet treats along the multiple shelves on display. The bell above the door sounds, followed by a cold gust of wind, alerting Harry of another person's presence.  
He finishes the job and turns to face Louis. He can't help but soften at the sight of him. His tight black jeans are rolled up despite the piercing cold outside which makes Harry question further when he notices a rip at the knee. The grey hoodie that swallows him whole beneath his jacket is soft, he can tell from just looking at it. Everything about Louis is soft, but today, he looks extra soft. His scruff is more prominent after a few days of letting it grow out, and Harry is, to say the least, weak for it.  
"Hey," Louis sighs.  
"Hey, can I help you?" Harry keeps it professional, ready to face the oncoming _'don't talk to me again I don't want to see you again you're too much and too little at the same time and you're annoying'_. But Louis winces at the tone he uses.  
"Felt guilty about abandoning you for a few days to look after the kittens on your own. So, I'm here to say sorry." He smiles.  
"Oh," Relief floods Harry's body at the confession. His brain had been driving him crazy over all the mindless, dumb things he'd said or done that could've been behind why Louis hadn't come to see him. "Really?"  
"Yeah," he chuckles, "Told you I'd be there and I couldn't even text you to let you know I couldn't be. And... I kind of missed your curls. Had a good time with you." He looks like, and Harry wants to blame the cold air for the rose colour emerging on Louis' face, but he looks almost like he's blushing.  
"Missed you, too. And I had a good time, as well." Louis looks up and smiles wider at that. "What's kept you busy then?"  
"Usual shit. Work, paperwork, sleep."  
"You work?"  
"Believe it or not, I do. I'm a teacher. Primary, 'course. Tried secondary, hated it."  
"Why?" Harry walks back behind the counter as Louis takes a seat on the table closest to him.  
"Kids from eleven to eighteen, the absolute worst age range, teachers that don't give a shit, and a lot of the time, kids that don't give a shit. Couldn't cope with it, if I'm honest."  
"Oh right. That's a shame."  
"What is?"  
"Kids not giving a shit. It's sad." He adds aimlessly as he wipes the countertop with the cloth he carries in his apron pocket.  
"Yeah, guess it is."  
"You like the little ones, though?  
"Absolutely adore 'em." He says, fondly.  
"I bet they adore you, too." Harry looks up at Louis then, and finds him smiling.  
"I hope so." He says quietly. A beat of silence passes before Harry speaks again.  
"Mr.Tomlinson. Ooh, I like it." Harry teases.  
"Don't start, Harry." He groans.  
"Mr.Tomlinson, can I go to the toilet, please?" Harry pouts.  
"I will shove you down the toilet, if you keep that up." He warns with a pointed finger.  
"Mr.Tomlinson, that's no way to speak to a student." Harry says in an accusatory tone.  
"Shut up, you're not cute." He mutters, standing from his seat and walking behind the counter, through the beads and into the kitchen.  
"I'm not?" He questions as he watches him go, and with a small smile to the old lady on table four, he follows him. Harry catches Louis already half way through a cupcake when he clears the beads from his face.  
"You're such a little shit." Louis just grins back with a mouthful of frosting. 

  
  
And just like that, Harry and Louis slip back into their bubble. The bubble full of laughter and fun and comfort, as though they'd known each other for years, only interrupted by the occasional customer in need of an evening pick-me-up in the form of a sugar dusted pastry or a heavily frosted cupcake.  
Which was fine by Harry, only with a hidden Louis beneath the counter, tickling up his legs with nimble fingers as he tried to take orders, and he received many questionable looks from a number of those customers when he would burst into giggles over a croissant or a slice of pie.  
The boys leave the bakery just after six, and as they lock up, Harry notices a small dot of icing sugar smudged on Louis' neck. He averts his eyes to the key in his sweaty and trembling hand, desperately trying to clear his mind of any thoughts leading to him on Louis' neck and jaw, licking the sugar off and the question of whether his skin would taste as delicious as the sweet powder.  
They walk home in the dark, the light from the street lamps guiding them back to their apartment block. Louis lights up a cigarette as they begin their five minute commute. Harry watches the thick cloud that slips from Louis' mouth with every exhale in wonder. He looks otherworldly, with his hood up and his prominent features accentuated in the moonlight. Louis catches Harry's eyes on him soon enough and smiles warmly.  
"You coming in?" Harry asks before they reach Louis' floor.  
"Where?" Louis asks, his thoughts swimming somewhere else in the silence that followed them the whole way home, the two of them too cold to speak.  
"To my flat."  
"Oh! Right, yeah, sure. If that's okay with you?" His eyebrows furrow with uncertainty.  
"Yeah, 'course it is." Harry gives a tight smile.  
"Cool, okay."  
They walk up the remaining steps in silence and Harry unlocks the door with held breath. Although he's not quite sure why. Maybe it's because the last time the two of them were stood there, Louis' lips were on his cheek, but he tries not to over think it. Less so for his sanity and more so to calm the heat blooming in his cheeks and chest.  
Louis follows Harry into the warm room, thanks to Harry's impeccably timed heating. He respectively removes his denim jacket and hangs it on the back of the door. He rubs his hands together to build up some heat between them.  
Harry turns to face the man and a beat of silence passes.  
"Tea?" He asks.  
"Please."  
"Great."  
Harry moves to the kitchen, but not before pointing towards the bedroom door.  
"They're in there." He says, fighting the small smile on his face.  
Louis grins and Harry hears his dirty white Vans slapping the vinyl floor as he reaches the kettle.  
Harry prepares the tea perfectly, thanks to the plenty of practise he'd had when Louis had been there for hours on end. He walks through to the bedroom to find Louis with his back to the door, his legs crossed on the floor of Harry's bedroom. His soft white t-shirt clings to his shoulder and falls loosely where his waist curves in, his hoodie discarded beside him. Harry places the cups on the bedside table and makes his way to the end of the bed, taking a seat beside Louis in the same position. Princess purrs in Louis' lap as he brushes his fingers along her soft spine. He's gazing down at the kittens lining the small bed. Five of them, the last time he'd checked. He counts again, thanks to the moment he'd counted four and a tiny mewl had come from under Princess' tail.  
Louis turns to him then, his gaze meeting Harry's.  
"Harry, listen," He says before clearing his throat.  
"I'm listening."  
"I'm...so sorry."  
"For what?"  
"Just, sorry. I kind of bailed for a bit, didn't I? And then..." Harry listens to every syrupy drop of each syllable dripping from Louis' mouth. Completely inappropriately, of course, he realises as he regains his focus on the subject matter.  
"Then I kind of kissed you. Which was stupid of me," Sudden spikes of hurt zap at Harry's chest, and his eyes begin to itch with it. Louis carefully puts down the cat in her bed.  
"Hear me out, love," he takes Harry's hand in his lap, "I kissed your cheek. And it was a bit pathetic, wasn't it?" Harry wonders how this was supposed to help the hurt blooming stronger by the second. Was Louis sorry for the kiss? He was regretting it when Harry hadn't stopped thinking about it for a single second since. "I spent the whole weekend thinking about it. How soft your skin was, how pretty your eyes were. Honestly, I think I even thought about how your hair smelled once or twice, too," Harry cracks a small smile.  
"You did?" Harry's eyes stare, wide in wonder.  
"Yeah, love, 'course I did. And that was just from a kiss to your cheek. I'm sorry, I just couldn't walk away without at least knowing what it'd feel like to have my mouth on your skin. And then I thought about it so much, too much, and I wondered why I hadn't just kissed you on the mouth. But I guess I just wanted you to know before I, maybe, did that...That I like you, Harry, and I would very much like to kiss you on the lips," he scoffs, "That sounded way hotter in my head." Harry laughs loudly at that, the gloss to his eyes gathering in the crinkles beside them that form.  
"Well, Louis," He sniffs, "For the record, I haven't stopped thinking about it either." Louis' eyes glimmer with hope.  
"And I would certainly like for you to kiss me, too. On the lips." He smiles.  
Louis smiles too, and just like that, he cups Harry's face in his soft hand, and brings it to his own.  
Harry's not even apologetic for the grin on his face that must block Louis' lips from colliding with his own. He quickly lets himself fall into the sudden sensation of Louis' mouth on his. His lips fall into rhythm with Louis' soft, gentle kisses. His hand is on Louis' face, bringing him closer. Louis' hands move from Harry's cheeks down to his soft hips, pulling him closer, too. He guides Harry onto his lap with ease, their lips never leaving each other. Harry's legs unfold, wrapping around Louis' waist, his bum resting on Louis' crossed legs. His hands slide around Louis' neck, their mouths still gliding together. He breaks the kiss slowly, Louis' mouth travelling from his mouth across his cheek, below his jaw and down his neck. His head tilts back, allowing Louis to easily nip at the pale skin there, surely tasting sickly sweet from the bakery.  
"L...Louis," He gasps when Louis bites particularly hard at a spot below his ear.  
He hums against the skin in response.  
"I thought this might be a good time to tell you, I like you too." Louis whips his head up to meet Harry's glazed eyes.  
"You do?"  
"I thought it might be obvious, but yes. Very much. And I know it's only been days," He laughs,"But we have kittens to bring up, and to do that together would be...amazing. If you'll have me." He smiles.  
Louis kisses Harry, hard. His teeth nip Harry's bottom lip, drawing a soft moan from him. His hands grip Harry's hips, bringing him as close as possible. His tongue finds its way to Harry's and Harry obliges, revelling in the taste of Louis and the smell of Louis and the feeling of Louis that indulges all of his senses. Harry's eyes open as an idea sparks. Louis senses the halt in Harry's fluid movements and pulls apart.  
"You good?" He asks, his voice grainy, and unbelievably hot.  
"Yeah, I've just...had an idea." He says, softly.  
"What is it?"  
"Do you fancy a joint?"  
"Do I fancy a...You bet your fine arse I do. Fuck, you're so hot." He whispers, tucking a stray curl behind Harry's ear as he blushes under the attention. He presses a soft kiss to Harry's mouth.  
"'Kay, gimme a second," He bites down on his bottom lip, dragging himself from Louis' warm embrace. He hops up on wobbly legs, making his way to the sofa in the living area. "You coming?" He glances back at Louis over his shoulder, who remains sitting, legs sprawled and face slightly flushed, but his eyes fixed on Harry, more specifically, Harry's arse. He scrambles up from the floor and follows after Harry in no time, making him giggle.  
Harry takes a seat on the sofa and reaches beneath his coffee table, revealing a small wooden box to be tucked under there. He flips it open on its hinge and takes out a pre-rolled joint.  
"Always preferred this to tobacco. Better for the body, and the mind." He says as he straightens the crinkled white paper and grabs a lighter from within the box. It has an array of kittens on it, and Harry loves it.  
"You're such a dork." Louis smiles around a chuckle.  
"Hey, don't be mean," he laughs as he nudges Louis' shoulder with his own. Louis only kisses it in return, earning yet another blush.  
Louis leads the way back to the bedroom and window, taking a seat on the cold slab. One leg hangs outside, while the other remains inside.  
Harry turns to sit on the opposite end, like they had before, when Louis grabs his wrist.  
"Oh, no you don't." He says lowly, and Harry gives him a quizzical look. He pulls Harry by his belt loops to his lap. Harry settles nicely between his legs and lights up the joint, sucking on it instantly. Louis turns his face to meet his own and brings his mouth to his before he can exhale the smoke in his lungs. The smoke curls from his mouth to Louis' as they kiss, The taste of smoke and Louis colliding and causing Harry's mind to spin, despite the weed not even coming close to hitting him yet.  
"Sorry, your mouth looks so pretty around that, I just couldn't hold back," He breathes out, millimetres from Harry's face.  
"Then don't." He says straight back, his voice gravelled and low, the joint still hanging from his two fingers. He brings it to Louis' mouth and waits for him to inhale, and wastes no time joining their mouths again, the kiss, hazy and warm and delicious.  
They take their time smoking the joint, most of it spent making out between long drags. And it's lovely, it's so lovely. Harry feels like he's floating, he's high as a kite and Louis is the sunshine and the clouds and the breathless feeling from being up so far from the ground.  
They end up on the bed, the roach long gone, discarded in a bush on the ground. Harry lies across Louis' chest and is nuzzling Louis' neck, pulling giggles from him when he finds a particularly sensitive spot, which he takes full advantage of, sucking and nipping at it gently. His giggles turn to low moans and he sends a fair warning down at him. Harry simply bites his lip, which tingles with the drug running through his every nerve ending. Louis smiles down at him.  
"You're so pretty," Harry whispers.  
"Why, thank you, Harold." He smiles down at the curly boy sprawled across his chest.  
"Very pretty."  
"You should see the look on your face."  
"What is it?"  
"You're grinning like a fucking psycho, babe." Harry's chest swoops at the pet name and he realises that his face is beginning to ache from the smile surely plastered across his face.  
"Okay, you got me there. I'm just happy."  
"You're chonged."  
"No, not only that," he giggles, "I'm happy. I'm really happy this happened. I'm excited."  
"Me too." He lifts himself up, at a reasonable speed in his head, but more likely at a snail's pace in reality. He lowers himself to hover over Louis and presses a sweet kiss to his mouth. Louis' head lifts to meet him halfway in another kiss, and they kiss again, and again, and again, until their mouths feel numb and their heads are floating.  
"Hey, you hungry?"  
"Starving," Louis whispers against Harry's soft lips.  
Not long later, the two boys lie across the sofa, minds pleasantly buzzed and stomachs stuffed with the crisps and leftover treats from the bakery and chocolate that once filled Harry's fridge and cupboards.  
"I can't believe I fucking ate vegan cake."  
"Neither can I. Jesus, Louis, that was some good stuff."  
"Where'd you get it?  
"Friend of mine. On his honeymoon right now but I'll let him know he's got a customer waiting for him when he gets back."  
"Thanks."  
"So," Harry lets a burp slip out, "How's your head?"  
"Still fuzzy. But good. Yours?"  
"Same. Feels so good." He smiles across the sofa, lifting his legs, with Louis' resting on top, to the sofa space between them. A good few seconds pass before either of them speak.  
"C'mere." Louis whispers, his eyes still on Harry's. Harry cracks a grin before lifting himself to walk on his knees across the sofa to either side of Louis' lap.  
"Can I sit?" He asks, innocence laced in his voice.  
"You can." Harry lowers himself slowly, Louis' hands finding his hips again. He squeezes the soft skin there. Harry has learned that his hips seem to be Louis' favourite part of his body so far, which only makes him excited to explore further. Harry's hands grip the hair at Louis' nape, tilting his head back for him to meet his lips as he fully sinks into Louis' hold.  
"Thanks." He says following a kiss.  
"Not a problem." Louis replies easily, kissing down Harry's soft neck just because he can. And why wouldn't he?  
"It's...late." Harry's eyes struggle to stay open with Louis' mouth on his skin, but he can see it's dark outside.  
"It is," Louis mumbles out.  
"So..." He breathes out. Louis stops altogether, his forehead resting on Harry's shoulder. Harry brushes his fingers along the back of Louis' head, playing with the longer strands. He smirks around the next words out of his mouth. "Sleepover?"  
Harry can feel Louis' smile against his skin before he hears an answer. It seems he doesn't need to hear it either, because Louis is on his feet, with Harry wrapped around his waist, in an instant. Harry yelps as he's whisked away to the bedroom, and Louis all but laughs at his surprise.  
The thing is, they don't even have sex. Not that they don't want to, they kiss and touch and laugh for hours on end, but the two of them spend the night getting to know each other again, discussing their lives, aspirations, their darkest fears, and everything in between. They've discussed it all lightly before, but this time...this time it feels different.  
They've breached something new and exciting, and a lot more intimate. And so every detail Harry hears again feels like it's brand new, but this time he has to protect it, treasure it, remember it, whenever he looks into those ocean eyes. Louis and Harry become new people to each other seemingly overnight, and it's exhilarating.  
And that is, pretty much, how it goes for the following few weeks. Getting to know each other's bodies and souls. It's perfect, the two boys and their cats and...happiness, above all. Of course, the sex turns out to be mind-blowing. Having Louis treat him like a princess and fuck him like a champ is one of the most exhilarating experiences he's ever had.  
Harry finds himself feeling so happy he loses his breath sometimes. Lily notices the prominent red and purple marks on his neck, and one day, even smirks at the one she notices on his hip when he's reaching for a baking tray on one of the shelves, to which he can only giggle and say “I’m sorry."  
And Louis, Louis just can't keep the grin off of his face. He’s exhilarated all day and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t come home tired and ready to drown in sleep. He’s ready to drown in Harry. The teachers in the staff room comment on his glow, too. Of course, he can't explain it. How can he sum up something so pure it causes him to nearly skip to work in the morning? All he can muster up is "I'm just happy."  
As well as exploring each other's minds, Harry and Louis find themselves exploring each other's bodies, getting to know each and every crease and blemish, every inch of skin and drop of sweat. That comes with the sex, and it's wonderful, how Harry can name the coordinates of Louis' freckles that scatter his body and how Louis can tell anyone how deep Harry's dimples go to the millimetre.  
Pretty quickly, Harry finds himself loving everything about the older man. He loves his laugh, he loves the crinkles by his eyes that come with the smile he loves, he loves the way his name sounds when he says it, he loves his cat, and most importantly...he's pretty sure he loves him. It hits him like a truck as he's working a late shift at the bakery, when he's washing his hands for the last time that day. He realises that doodled on the inside of his fourth finger, is a black love heart. He must've missed it in the hectic rush of the day, but only notices it now as it fades with every rub of the soapy water. He wonders how it got there as he begins to close up.  
He'd relentlessly whined for Louis' attention in bed the previous night, whilst Louis had stayed up late, completing paperwork ready for the next day at work. Louis had looked so beautiful, back against the wall, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.  
"Louis," He had drawled out.  
"Yeah, babe, I'll be five minutes." He'd whispered, scribbling something on the top of the pile of papers on his lap. Harry had groaned into his hip. He'd kissed it softly and fallen asleep shortly afterwards, his last memory; the press of Louis' soft lips to his knuckle, the feeling of Louis' soft t-shirt against his cheeks and the smell of Louis overwhelming his senses.  
He realises Louis must've drawn the heart on his hand at some point during the night and not told him, even when he'd kissed him goodbye before leaving in the morning. Harry feels his heart tighten when he presses his lips to the heart on his hand and it dawns on him, that yes, he loves Louis. He knows he loves him with every fibre of his being. He's fallen in love with Louis and he can't help the burst of gleeful laughter that escapes him as he almost sprints out the door, barely remembering to lock it behind him. 

  
  
It's not that Harry doesn't want to tell Louis that he's hopelessly in love with him, per say, but it's just that...he doesn't necessarily feel confident that breaching the idea of love so early on in their relationship won't ruin what they have right now. Hell, they haven't even discussed what their relationship actually is, right now. But he can't help but feel like he wants to explode with exclamations of his love for Louis at any given opportunity. He almost slips up countless times. He has to suppress screaming it when he finds Louis asleep on his sofa when he comes out from a shower, surrounded by kittens, safe in his arms. He almost lets it out when he laughs at Louis reading out the next book he has planned for his school kids. He nearly cries it out when Louis makes him breakfast one morning, even though it was burnt and it tasted of nothing. He has to stop himself from screaming it when Louis is kissing his temple, their skin slick with sweat as Louis slams into him, again and again. When he meets Louis one day at the school after he finishes his shift early, he has to physically bite down on his fist to stop himself from yelling it out, because he catches Louis mid-pep talk with a small girl from his class, and he wipes her tears with his thumbs as Harry watches from the parking lot. Instead, he waits for Louis to finish up and gathers him in a bone-crushing hug the very second he's close enough. He's so in love with him, he's never felt anything like this before, and all he wants to do is scream it out for everyone to hear. But all he can do is whisper it into Louis' shoulder, imagining his reaction, should he happen to hear it. 

******* **

  
  
Louis brings up their...status, eventually, as they share a tub of vanilla ice cream on Louis' sofa one evening. He finishes wiping the sticky sweet substance from his nose with a scowl in Harry's direction. Harry smirks in triumph and licks his spoon, his eyes fixed on Louis'.  
"Forgive me yet?" He asks, his cheeks hollowing around the thin metal, and Louis stutters out a ' _fuck'_ , before composing himself and laughing around a ' _you're such a shit_ '. Harry thanks him before they go back to watching whatever sitcom is playing quietly on the TV.  
The show has long since ended by the time Louis speaks again. Harry is in his lap now, enjoying the belly rubs from Louis, practically purring against his chest. Louis chuckles lightly when Harry lets out a moan of contentment.  
"You seem happy." He speaks into Harry's hair.  
"I am." Harry says as easily as can be.  
"Me too."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah, I am. The happiest I've been in a long time, Harry," Harry's head lifts to meet Louis' gaze, and Louis' hand moves from Harry's stomach to his cheek, his thumb stroking it lightly in adoration. "And I know it's only been, what? A few weeks?"  
"Nine, since we met."  
"Nine weeks, Jesus. And I haven't even thought to ask you if maybe...you'd want to be my boyfriend?" His eyes are genuine and Harry wants to laugh because the poor lad looks as though he's preparing himself for an answer that might not be a ' _yes, oh my god, yes_ '. He doesn't need to, though, because Harry's arms are around his neck in an instant, his yeses all muffled into Louis' neck, but he's sure he gets the point.  
He pulls back from the kisses he peppers all of Louis' face and says with as much of the sincerity he holds in the feelings he has for this boy, "I want to be yours, Louis. Only yours. Have been for a while, anyway."  
"Yeah, I know," he laughs, "But I wanted to make it official, you know? We've been around each other practically every other second since we met, and it didn't even occur to me that maybe we might be boyfriends, without actually being boyfriends."  
"Hadn't even crossed my mind, babe." He tells a white lie.  
"Yes, it did." Louis smirks, knowingly.  
"Yes, it did," He groans, "But it's okay, Louis, I don't want you feeling guilty about it. I know what you're like." And he does, he knows that Louis feels for other people deeply, he knows that he cares for other people even more so. He knows Louis, and Louis knows him. Like no one else ever has, not even Zayn or Liam. And he's the most comfortable he's ever been with that piece of potentially fatal information. He doesn't care that Louis knows him inside out because he knows Louis just the same, and it's such a beautiful vulnerability to be exposed to; to give someone else the power to use your own self against you, but trusting them to use it to protect you, instead.  
"Okay, I'll try not to."  
"I know you will." It's Louis' turn to groan, then, and Harry's turn to smirk. He turns to Harry then, with his eyes the bluest blue Harry's ever known and sighs.  
"God, I love you." Louis breathes out. He freezes instantly, the realisation dawning on him like a cloud of thunder; frightening and fascinating all the same.  
His mouth opens to speak, but he knows it's over. It's out, and there's no way to take it back. But he can't help the odd sense of relief that comes with finally saying it. He's been holding back on it from the second the thought occurred to him that he may have fallen in love with his best friend. It feels good to say it, like he can breathe properly. Like Harry was a breath of fresh air, and instead of just opening a window or two, he's finally outside in the open, finally ready to breathe in and out for the first time in weeks.  
And Harry, his eyes are just as wide as Louis'. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, it's adorable, and Louis is laughing, his head thrown back of the sofa. He's crying with laughter, and Harry grabs his head back, pulling him to level with him once again.  
"Louis, are you s-"  
"I love you, Harry. Fucking hell, I love you, so much. God, that feels amazing to finally say." He's still chuckling, as Harry wipes the tears from his eyes, ignoring his own that stream down his cheeks. He kisses them away, his hands, grasping Harry's head because he doesn't want to lose a second of the way Harry looks right now; his cheeks a delightful shade of pink, his nose too, and his eyes glossy with the tears that still spill over. He wants to treasure the smile that shows itself in every corner of his face, the wet crinkles by his eyes, the dimples that cave his cheeks, the toothy grin and the laughter that bubbles out.  
"Louis, oh my God, Louis, I love you too, you fuck. I love you so much, I feel like I can't breathe sometimes. Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you? Fuck, how long have you known?"  
"I don't think I can pinpoint it, because if I tried I'd probably realise I've loved you the whole time, but," He sniffles,"I was at work one day, I think it was a few days after that food fight we had," Harry interrupts in shock.  
"That was ages ago, Louis!"  
"I know, I know. But I was checking my phone when one of the kids happened to walk past me in the corridor. My wallpaper is a picture of you, in case you didn't know, with a banana shoved in your mouth, you sick freak," Harry cries out with laughter, "and I didn't know I wasn't doing it, but the kid asked me why I was smiling like I was. I asked 'like what?', and they said, 'like you've just won the lottery' and ran off, the little shit. I realised then, that I had won. Christ, Harry, I could win the lottery and it still wouldn't make me as happy as you make me. And that's when I knew, I was done for. You've got me, Styles. You really have." Louis uses his sleeve to wipe the relentless tears on Harry's face as he laughs.  
"Louis..." He gasps around a hiccup.  
"How long have you known? You said you'd been waiting to tell me, so why didn't you? You fucking oaf."  
"Hey! Go easy, I've never loved anyone like this before-"  
"Me neither-"  
"So I don't know what to do with it. I feel like I want to cry with it almost every second if I'm honest. Especially when I look at you, though. Right now, I feel like I might just explode with it. But I've known for a while. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."  
"It's okay, baby, it's okay." He kisses Harry's temple.  
"I knew, and I don't know why I didn't tell you, but I knew when I found a little black heart doodled on my hand in work. I knew it was you, I mean, who else? But I knew then, for sure."  
"I don't know why I did that."  
"I loved it," Harry whispers against Louis' lips,"I love you," he adds, just because he can. Finally.  
"I love you." He says right back, before their lips are locked. 

******* **

  
  
Harry grasps Louis' hand maybe a bit too tight as they watch, solemnly, as the young girl inspects the litter that run wild around his apartment. Her mother stands beside the two men and giggles along as the kittens attack the girl with licks and tickles. She screams with laughter and Harry can't even bring himself to laugh with them, because he's going to be one kitten short by the end of the day, and with every one they let go, he knows, he'll lose a piece of his heart, and the hole will be healing for a long time.  
"Mummy, I want all of them!" She yells from the floor. The mother smiles warmly at her and then at Harry, whose heart rips at the idea of losing them all at once, but he smiles back politely, anyway.  
"You can't have all of them, honey. Just one, remember," She says, checking the time on her wristwatch, "We need to be quick, darling, so hurry up and pick one." She says with a smile.  
"This part is always difficult," Louis adds lightly to fill the silence the two of them are in that Harry can't bring himself to break, scared he might burst into tears if he opens his mouth.  
"I know," The mother says.  
"This one!" Her daughter shouts, suddenly. She's at her mother's feet in an instant, cradling a ball of fur. She's holding onto Amber, Harry's favourite of the litter. He feels another crack in his heart as he looks down at her, and then to Louis, who only stares back with sympathy and a hint of worry in his eyes. Harry looks back to the girl, who is ever so gentle with the cat, stroking lightly with all the fragility the smallest of the litter needs. He hears her whisper, "I'll look after you, don't worry. I'll protect you.", and that's all it takes. Harry smiles up at the mother, his eyes glazed, and not with sadness, but with gratitude. Gratitude for the confidence he suddenly has that the kitten will be cared for like he and Louis have these past few months. She smiles back, and Louis gives Harry's hand a squeeze.  
Letting Ruby, Emerald, Opal and Crystal go isn't as difficult after that. He weeps into Louis' shoulder every night each one of them has to leave, but it's not as painful in knowing each owner will look after them with all the love in the world, just as he has. Louis holds him tight each and every time, reassuring him that ' _they'll be safe, they'll be alright, don't worry, Harry_ ', which he's thankful for, because he knows that Louis is hurting too when he feels wetness pool on his shoulder, once or twice, though Louis never admits to it. All he can do is whisper ' _I love you's_ and ' _thank you's_ to him, though he wonders how those simple words could ever, truly, sum up how he feels about the man. 

******* **

  
  
"And that, is how Mr.Tomlinson and I ended up with five kittens on our hands. Kids, I'm telling you, stay safe out there and-"  
"Children! What kind of bologna is Mr.Styles feeding you today?" Louis finds Harry surrounded by multiple faces filled with wonder at the story he spills out to anyone who'll listen.  
"It's not Bologna, it's simply a retelling of a wonderful story."  
"Well, I ended up with you, so I wouldn't call it wonderful. What do you think, kids?"  
They whine in protest at ' _Meanie Mr.Tomlinson_ ', and one girl exclaims, with a sparkle in her huge eyes, "Of course he's wonderful, Mr.Tomlinson. He's beautiful, just like a princess." To which Harry blushes and Louis can only nod in agreement.  
"He's alright," he mutters, which makes Harry huff, and Louis continues,"Listen, kids, it's time to go home. Where are your mothers?"  
The girl with the massive eyes speaks up as the rest of them scatter to their respective parents.  
"I don't have a mother." Harry and Louis share a look of panic before Louis decides carefully to speak again.  
"I'm sorry, I-"  
"I have two dads." She beams proudly.  
"You do?" Harry gasps.  
"Yes! I love them more than anything. But maybe not more than I love our cat."  
"You have a cat, too?" Harry's eyes twinkle.  
"Yes we do, his name is Opal." Harry and Louis let out a burst of laughter at the coincidence.  
"I think that's a beautiful name. I congratulate whoever named him." He gives Louis a knowing look.  
"Thanks!" She grins. Her head whips around at the sound of a man calling to her. Harry and Louis look to the source and find two men, older than themselves, arms wrapped around each other, waving to their daughter. They all share a moment of recognition and smile warmly at each other.  
"I have to go home now. Nice to meet you, Mr.Styles." She says, and runs across the crossing to the parking lot and into her fathers' arms.  
Louis and Harry watch her go before silently walking to Harry's car together.  
As soon as they're both sat down with their seat belts on, Harry pulls Louis into a kiss by his coat.  
"Sorry. I just...I needed to do that." He pulls back and blushes, his teeth sunken into his bottom lip and his fingers fidgeting with the radio. Louis stops his hand and brings it to his lips. He presses them to his fourth finger like he always does. Harry isn't sure if Louis knows that Harry notices him doing it, but he does, and he treasures it as though it's a promise of forever because that's what he wants with Louis. He wants forever.  
"You don't have to apologise for kisses, ever. I'd kiss you all day every day if I could." He says against Harry's hand.  
"You're awfully cheesy, but I love you," he smiles at Louis before turning the key, popping the gearstick into reverse.  
"Love you, too," Louis says back, as easy as breathing. 

******* **

  
  
"I can't believe we're doing this." Louis says, breathlessly.  
"Louis, I'm going to cry."  
"Don't you dare. We're going in. We're fucking doing this." He grips Harry's hand, tight.  
It's late in the Summer evening, the sun is still out and the tattoo parlour is still open, it's neon red sign stuttering with a fault in the letter 'T'.  
And of course, they're drunk. They are very drunk. But this seems completely sane to the both of them at this current moment in time. The conversation had happened so quickly that the two of them were running through the streets, still pulling their coats on in fits of giggles before either of them had thought twice. Louis had almost forgotten to lock the door to their shared flat in the rush.  
"Fuck," Louis whispers as he pushes Harry through the heavy wooden door. 

  
  
An hour and a half later, they're back in their flat, both staring in bewilderment at their new ink on their bed.  
"I love it." Harry says, his chin resting on Louis' chest.  
"Me too," he swallows, "Harry, we did it. Holy shit, we did it."  
Harry is crying through the laughter and Louis joins him easily. His head is spinning, and not only from the alcohol and the adrenaline but from the pure surges of love he has for the boy before him, shooting through every vessel and nerve and pore in his body. He loves Harry so much, and he has him in his arms, in their bed, in their flat, staring at their shared tattoos. Harry stares back up at him, with all the same emotions evident in his eyes, the deepest sea green he's ever known. He could drown in them, in fact, he wants to, sure that he'd enjoy it at this point.  
The next words out of Louis' mouth seem so natural, he doesn't have to think before he says them.  
"Marry me." Harry's grin disappears, and his eyes bulge.  
"What?"  
"I said marry me, you fool."  
"Say it again." He whispers, his arms supporting himself as he crawls slowly up towards Louis.  
"Marry me, Harry, please."  
"Fuck, yes," His mouth is on Louis' in an instant, "yes, yes, yes, yes." He says between the kisses he plants on Louis' lips.  
They're both crying, laughing, and smiling in between the kisses and the cuddles that last all night. And it's the happiest Harry or Louis have ever been. 

******* **

  
  
Harry wakes up to a dull ache in his head and stomach. A stinging sensation on his fourth finger announces it's presence pretty quickly when he reaches to rub his eyes. He yelps in pain, waking the sleeping beauty wrapped around him, latched to his back.  
"You okay?" He croaks out.  
"Yeah, Louis, what the fuck did we do?" He turns in the man's arms to find him, too, inspecting his own finger.  
"I think...we got engaged. And apparently got new tattoos. I'm going to get murdered at work." He speaks slowly and carefully, and Harry can hear the growing smile on his face in his voice before he sees it.  
"We did."  
"Regretting it?"  
"Not one bit." Harry is pulled onto Louis' lap and he smiles down at his glowing boy. He's golden, and he's beautiful and Harry is still overwhelmed when he so much as looks at him. He is Harry's and Harry is his. He'll be reminded every time he glances at the inside of his finger where a little black heart remains inked to his skin forever. Just like the one Louis had drawn on there over a year and a half ago, but this time, Louis has one to match.  
"Good, me neither. Now come here, wanna kiss this hangover away."  
"Happily." Because, of course, he's happy. They both are. And as long as they have each other, they always will be. 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on twitter and send me hate about how bad it was !! @birchtreeharold
> 
> thank u for making it this far xx


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